False God of Rome (22 page)

‘You should be very careful, dear boy,’ Gaius advised, as a knock came from the front door. ‘Herod bought that grain off Claudius; if that comes to light he’ll also be in
a lot of trouble. Antonia doesn’t take kindly to people causing problems for members of her family; she reserves that right for herself.’

‘That’s the beauty of writing anonymously, she’ll never find out that it was me and nor will Herod,’ Sabinus replied as Magnus was let in looking less than refreshed.

Vespasian got to his feet and signalled Aenor to start draping on his toga. ‘Antonia has a remarkable way of knowing about everything, Sabinus; one word from her and you’ll have no
chance in the praetor elections. If I were you I’d take Uncle’s advice and think of another way to satisfy myself with Herod.’

Sabinus scowled. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Magnus said once it became apparent that the conversation was at an end.

‘Good morning, Magnus, we should go,’ Vespasian replied as Aenor tucked in the last fold of his toga.

‘Ziri’s waiting outside, sir.’

‘And I should be greeting my clients,’ Gaius said, heaving himself to his feet. ‘I wish you well in this unpleasant business, dear boy. Aenor, my toga.’

With a brief nod to his brother, Vespasian turned and followed Magnus out of the door and through the forty or so clients clustered around it waiting to pay their morning respects to their
patron.

Finding Ziri at the back of the crowd they headed off down the Quirinal. It was a beautiful, fresh summer’s morning with already a hint of warmth in the air. A light breeze blew from
inland and Vespasian imagined that he could detect a trace of fresh mown hay and meadow flowers on it above the smells of the city; he thought of his estates at Cosa and Aquae Cutillae and realised
that, at this moment, he would give anything to be at either one rather than on his way to plan a murder.

Claudius’ house was not what Vespasian would have expected for a member of the imperial family, however out of favour. Set almost up against the city walls on a quiet
side street on the Esquiline Hill, it looked more like the home of a merchant who had just suffered from a series of ill-advised business ventures. Peeling whitewash clung to cracked and crumbling
plaster that all too often exposed the brickwork underneath. It was, however, substantial and what it lacked in glamour it made up for in privacy; a perfect place to live an unnoticed life,
Vespasian mused as he waited nearby for Antonia and Corbulo.

Shortly before the second hour Corbulo came striding around the corner, accompanied by two slaves, looking very pleased with himself. ‘Good morning, Vespasian,’ he said, ignoring
Magnus and Ziri’s presence. ‘Something good has come out of this sorry affair: Asiaticus wrote me a note this morning promising to endorse my bid for a praetorship. With his support in
the Senate I stand a good chance of coming towards the top of the poll and would therefore be in line for the governorship of a propraetorial province after my year.’

‘I’m very pleased for you, Corbulo,’ Vespasian said with sincerity, ‘and for myself.’

‘Why, has Asiaticus promised you something too?’

‘No, but seeing as it was down to me that you became involved with him I would say that puts you back into my debt; not such a clean slate after all, eh?’

Corbulo frowned, but before he could respond Antonia’s litter turned into the street with Pallas walking next to it carrying Capella’s chest.

The twelve taut-muscled Nubian bearers set the litter down next to the steps leading up to the front door. Antonia pulled aside the curtain and stepped down. Vespasian’s heart jumped as
Caenis followed her mistress out. She glanced up at him and gave a shy smile; her normally crystal-clear blue eyes were shaded with sorrow but still lingered on him, taking his breath away. He
opened his mouth to try to explain everything to her but, suddenly remembering that they were surrounded by people, closed it immediately and essayed instead a nervous smile. Caenis gave a slight
nod as if understanding that they needed to talk and then turned to collect her writing materials from inside the litter.

‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Antonia said, bringing Vespasian out of his private world. The faint look of amusement on her face gave Vespasian the distinct impression that his and
Caenis’ tacit conversation had been a lot more public than they had intended. ‘I will do the talking; you should remain silent unless I ask you to speak. Remember that you are here
solely to work out the logistics of our…er…enterprise.’

Pallas mounted the steps and rapped on the door.

‘I was t-totally unaware, M-M-Mother,’ Claudius affirmed, dabbing with a handkerchief at a trail of saliva that leaked from the corner of his downturned mouth,
‘of what would happen to the estates.’ His alert grey eyes darted across to his freedman, Narcissus, seated next to him on a bench underneath a fruit-laden pear tree in the well-kept
courtyard garden. ‘As I’m sure was N-N-Narcissus.’

Vespasian and Corbulo sat either side of Antonia watching with interest as she interrogated her son. Claudius had twitched and stammered almost uncontrollably when she had showed him the deeds
and he had admitted to knowing that Narcissus had been buying land illegally for him in Egypt. Narcissus had remained unruffled throughout the interview as if it were a matter of little import and
consequently beneath his dignity to acknowledge. Vespasian glanced over to Caenis but she kept her head down, concentrating on recording the conversation on wax tablets on her lap. Pallas stood,
expressionless, behind her.

‘I’m supposed to believe that you were going to sell seven of the biggest wheat-growing estates in Egypt,’ Antonia said, indicating to Capella’s chest placed, open, on
the table between them, ‘to an unknown buyer without being remotely interested in who it was?’

‘But we thought that we did know, good Lady, we thought it was Poppaeus,’ Narcissus replied, stroking his oiled beard with a chubby hand; the ostentatiously bejewelled rings on each
stubby digit glinted in the strengthening sun.

‘I did not address that question to you, freedman,’ Antonia snapped. ‘You’ve already committed an outrage by sitting in my presence without invitation, do not make
matters worse by talking out of turn; and I am “domina” to you.’

‘Indeed, domina,’ Narcissus replied, slowly inclining his head and spreading his hands in acquiescence.

‘So you didn’t know the end purchaser was Macro?’

‘M-M-Macro!’ Claudius looked horrified. Narcissus’ full lips twitched. ‘No, M-M-M-Mother. P-Poppaeus said that he would wipe off the debt for all the estates if I sold
seven to h-him.’

‘And he didn’t tell you what he was going to do with them?’

‘No, M-M-M-Mother.’

‘Stop m-m-mothering me, Claudius. If you have such trouble saying the word then don’t attempt it and this conversation might go a lot more swiftly.’

‘Yes, M-M- – yes. We er…I, that is, assumed that he was going to keep them for h-himself.’ Claudius glanced again at Narcissus who was studying his manicured
fingernails; with an almost imperceptible nod of the head the freedman indicated that he had given the right answer.

‘Well, he’s not; he’s going to sell them on to Macro. Luckily for you I believe your story. I know that even
you
aren’t stupid enough to hand such potential wealth
to a ruthless man set upon dismembering the Empire that you may one day rule.’

‘M-m-me!’ Claudius exclaimed in exaggerated surprise. Vespasian noticed a faint smile briefly tweak the corners of Narcissus’ mouth.

‘Yes, you, Claudius. Don’t try to play the innocent with me; it’s insulting to both of us. Now, if you want me to seriously consider you as a potential heir then you have to
help me put an end to this deal without Macro suspecting that it was me who moved against him. And you must not tell anyone; not even your money-grabbing little friend Herod Agrippa.’

Narcissus placed a silk handkerchief to his mouth and delicately cleared his throat, raising both eyebrows and looking at Antonia.

‘What is it?’ she asked impatiently.

‘My thanks, domina,’ Narcissus purred, his voice oozing obsequious sincerity. ‘We, that is, my master and I, will naturally do everything that you ask and you can rely on our
discretion. I would suggest, if I may, that just stopping the deal or, indeed, eliminating Poppaeus would not be subtle enough to fool Macro.’

‘Do you think that I haven’t thought of that?’

Narcissus held his hands up and humped his shoulders, tilting back his head and half closing his eyes. ‘No, domina, no, of course not. But might I suggest an accidental death?’

‘No, you may not, you impertinent little man. We are going to stage a natural death and we’re going to stage it in this house.’

Narcissus’ eyes widened as he understood the implications. ‘And this would be staged after we have done the deal, domina?’

‘Yes, Claudius will end up with both the signed-off debt marker as well as the deeds.’

‘May I compliment you on such finesse?’

‘No, you may not; it was Vespasian’s idea.’

Whether that was true or not, Vespasian did not know any more. He felt Narcissus’ gaze and looked over at him; the freedman’s eyes betrayed a mixture of admiration and appreciation;
he gave a half-smile and inclined his head fractionally. Vespasian’s mind turned to the bankers’ draft; he would cash it with the Cloelius brothers as repayment of that debt once the
deed was done.

‘I will leave you to discuss the details,’ Antonia said, rising and giving her son a stern look. ‘Get this right, Claudius, and I might think better of you. Come,
Caenis.’

The men all stood as Antonia left; Caenis followed with a hesitant look at Vespasian. He watched her walk out of the garden, wondering when he would get the chance to try to put things right
with her.

‘So to recap our plan then, masters,’ Pallas said, putting down Capella’s chest, as they entered the atrium having walked around the whole house and stable
yard, where Magnus had joined them. ‘On their arrival Poppaeus and his secretary, Kosmas, will be shown into the garden where the deal will take place. Once it is done Claudius will ask
Poppaeus for a private word; Narcissus will take Kosmas to his study through the atrium where he will see us waiting for an interview with Claudius. Meanwhile, Poppaeus’ litter will have been
ordered around the back to the stable yard where it will be left as close as possible to the steps leading into the house. The litter-bearers will be offered food and drink in the kitchen and kept
there until Magnus runs to tell them that their master is waiting at the front of the—’

A loud knock at the door interrupted his briefing. Before Narcissus could stop him, the doorkeeper opened it and in walked a tall, elegant, middle-aged man dressed in a jet black robe that fell
to his ankles and a purple cloak edged with gold embroidery. A freedman accompanied him.

‘H-H-Herod, my dear friend,’ Claudius called, shambling over to greet the new arrival. His weak knees knocked together as his feet shuffled forward, making his walk more like a lurch
that gave the impression that he would fall flat on his face if he lost his momentum.

Herod took Claudius’ forearm in a firm grip. ‘I’m sorry if I have intruded on anything,’ he said, casting an interested look over Claudius’ shoulder at the company.
‘Come, Eutyches, Claudius is evidently busy; we should return later.’

The freedman turned and walked back out of the door.

‘N-n-n-no, Herod, th-these g-g-g-gentlemen were j-just leaving.’

‘Why are you stammering with me, old friend? That is most unlike you.’

Pallas glanced at Vespasian and indicated with his head to the door.

‘We shall leave you with your new guest, noble Claudius,’ Vespasian said, understanding the gesture and walking towards the exit.

‘Not until you have introduced me, surely, Claudius?’ Herod said, eyeing Pallas suspiciously. ‘Pallas I know, he’s your mother’s steward; and Senator Corbulo, good
day to you.’ Corbulo nodded back. ‘But I have not had the pleasure of this young gentleman’s acquaintance.’ He gave Vespasian an unctuous smile.

‘B-but of course,’ Claudius agreed, his long face reddening.

Vespasian stood in embarrassed silence as Claudius stammered his way through his full name, dribbling copious amounts of saliva from each corner of his mouth, which he tried to stem with a fold
of his toga.

‘You make your host very nervous, Vespasian,’ Herod said, taking his forearm, ‘now why would that be, I wonder?’ He took another wary look in Pallas’ direction and
then looked back at Vespasian. ‘I met your brother in Judaea and have had a couple of dealings with him here in Rome; please give him my regards.’

‘I’ll be sure to,’ Vespasian replied, curious as to why Sabinus would have had dealings with a man who had insulted him.

‘But please, do not let me detain you any further.’

‘I look forward to enjoying a longer meeting with you, Herod,’ Vespasian said politely if not quite truthfully.

‘Indeed, and so do I,’ Herod replied, equally politely. ‘Eutyches, get back in here, you fool; you’ve business to attend to.’

‘C-c-c-come, Herod, Narciss-ss-cissus will see them out, let us enjoy the g-g-garden. Good day, g-g-gentlemen.’ Claudius grabbed Herod’s elbow and led him from the room at a
suspiciously fast speed as Herod’s freedman came scuttling back into the house.

‘My master thinks that he’s adept at subterfuge, but unfortunately he’s not,’ Narcissus commented. ‘I’ll do my best to make Herod think that it was purely
legal business or suchlike that brought you here. Unfortunately his eyes, ears and nose are trained to detect intrigue; he may well be a problem.’

‘Then we should get this done as soon as possible,’ Corbulo suggested.

‘Your judgement is faultless, senator,’ Narcissus crooned, ‘and does you great credit. Poppaeus too is keen to seal the deal. I’m sure that he won’t object to being
here at the second hour tomorrow to do so; there is no meeting of the Senate owing to the festival of Apollo.’

‘We shall be here at dawn unless we hear otherwise from you, Narcissus,’ Pallas said, picking up the chest. ‘I will let Asiaticus know to be in position in the Forum from the
third hour onwards to waylay the litter.’